


Living, Falling In Too Deep

by iktwabrokenbone (apiculteur)



Category: Bandom, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Angst, Flowers, Fluff, Language of Flowers, M/M, Witchcraft, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 13:43:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5628685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apiculteur/pseuds/iktwabrokenbone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler has been a witch for four years, running a little shop as the real owner, Pete, followed his passion for flowers. Dealing with ghosts is normal to Tyler. They find him, he helps them move on, he never sees them again. Until, of course, he meets a cute punk ghost with a soft spot for the eighties who refuses to accept his death or move on. He avoided befriending ghosts for a reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living, Falling In Too Deep

**Author's Note:**

> hEck this has consumed me for a couple months now. wow its finally done!!! so ill warn u before u start: its p fluffy but it has a fair dose of angst and some VIOLENCE and DEATH MENTION (obvs) so if those trigger u, mayb steer clear. if ive missed any triggers, tell me and ill add them.
> 
> also ive got a whole damn playlist for this thing!!! if u dont like eighties then like 5 out of 11 of the songs r 80s but honestly its still a gr8 playlist. u can listen to it on 8tracks [here](http://8tracks.com/iktwabrokenbone/living-falling-in-too-deep)
> 
> edit: there is now a translation in [ру́сский](https://ficbook.net/readfic/4603603)!!!!!! can u believe?? what a strong person to translate 17k :OOO tysm!!

Years of practice had gotten Tyler used to ghosts. Since he was twenty-two, he had worked at a witchcraft shop, The Serpent Under, ran by his friend Pete. When he had left university, Pete had given him a job working at his little shop. It was full of old books and trinkets, alongside halloween decorations when it was October. It had taken only a month before he realised the magic was real. Pete helped ghosts move on, and did the odd exorcism- though, in all honesty, most ghosts were disenchanted with causing havoc, more interested in leaving the realm of the living and moving on. For close to five years, Pete had taught Tyler all his knowledge of witchcraft, though Tyler was still less talented than Pete. No one could learn in five years what Pete spent his whole life learning from his mother.

Now, Pete spent more time setting up his new business, a flower shop called Pushing Daisies (which Tyler told him was terrible, because alluding to death didn’t create great business, but Pete only laughed). At this point, Pete practically let Tyler run The Serpent Under himself, only helping if Tyler asked him to. Tyler appreciated it, loved that Pete trusted him with this place. After so long as a witch, Pete was getting tired of it, and prefered tending to plants. His garden and windowsills were full of succulents and cacti and orchids, and too many other plants Tyler wouldn’t be able to name or take care of himself.

Regardless of his tutor’s increasing disinterest in witchcraft, Tyler enjoyed being a witch, loved having the shop. It was a relatively square room, lit up with dim lamps, with a mashup of different dark, wooden shelves, all from different eras. Each was full of glass jars, closed off with brass lids or glass stops, full of various different powders, barks, and herbs. There were baskets full of beads and jewellery, a few books about witchery and the paranormal around the shop. There was a corner of the shop full of candles and incenses, some with magical properties, others which just smelt nice and attracted customers. Tyler adored it, the atmosphere and the scent.

He liked the job itself, too, making people happy by giving them good luck charms which actually worked, talking to the ghosts who hovered around, not yet able to go. It was disturbing, in some ways, seeing dead people, most of all those who were young and had died tragically and weren’t yet accepting of their death. Tyler had gotten used to it. The dead people were an occupational hazard.

The dead would find their way to The Serpent Under, drawn by Tyler’s white magic. As someone who was alive, and had never been dead, he didn’t know what the realm of the dead was like. He imagined not so different- none of the ghosts he met seemed disturbed by it, so much as they were disturbed by its existence. He wouldn’t know, though, because ghosts couldn’t talk about it. He imagined there was some sort of naturally occurring magic in the realm of the dead, a charm which didn’t allow them to speak about it.

One of the first ghosts that Tyler had helped to move on had tried to explain it to him. She was a friendly old woman who reminded him of his grandma, and they had created some sort of friendship which he tried to avoid with ghosts. It was too painful; he couldn’t ask them to stay, and doubted they would want to spend time flickering between dimensions, unaging, without closure. They would move on and it would hurt, so he didn’t bother.

But he was naive at the time, missed his grandma, so he befriended the woman, Margie. They spoke about things like how his day had been, what he got for his birthday or what he wanted for Christmas. She acted like his grandma, and opened her mouth to tell him about the realm of the dead when he asked. No words came out, no matter how hard she tried.

It upset her, so he explained that there was probably some form of charm stopping her from telling. Margie moved on a month later, and he didn’t bother becoming friends with any ghosts after that, or asking them about the realm of the dead. Some tried to explain it to him, as part of them mourning their own death, but it was always the same. Mouth stuck open, no sound coming out, until they stopped trying.

Tyler wasn’t surprised when he saw a man on the streets, curls of blue hair with brown at the shaved sides, his form flickering like an old film. He was beautiful, and flickered far less than most of the newly deads he met. Often, conversations were stunted as the ghosts only managed to spend a minute in the realm of the living, coming in and out of sight constantly, before disappearing for an hour. Moving between the realms was an acquired skill, which most ghosts ended up able to do for only five minutes at a time after three months of being dead. If he had been kept steady by strong or dark magic, Tyler would be able to feel it. Since he couldn’t, it must have been time which leant him this control of his movement between realms. If anything, that was almost more worrying.

The man spent at least half an hour pacing around outside before he entered. From the look of him, he was in his mid-twenties, but Tyler expected he had been dead for at least a couple of years. How he had gone so long without being pulled towards white magic, Tyler was unsure. America may have been one of the places with less witches, but there was still a decent amount of them all over the country, and it was easy enough to help ghosts move on. It was one of the first things Tyler had learnt, past basic witchery like simple hexes and charms, essential for witches to know. People only stayed ghosts for long if they couldn’t move on, or they wanted to stay.

When the man shuffled into the shop, glancing towards Tyler nervously, he didn’t initiate conversation. Ghosts didn’t wander into witchcraft shops by accident, or just to look around. Sure enough, the ghost spent ten minutes looking at books on witchcraft and smelling various incenses before he walked up to the counter, where Tyler had been pretending to read a book since the ghost had arrived.

“Hey. Do you do witchcraft?” the ghost asked.

Tyler nodded.

“Is it real? The witchcraft?” he asked.

Tyler laughed. “Can’t you feel it?”

The ghost squinted at him, giving a shrug. He didn’t look at Tyler. “Am I… supposed to be able to feel it?”

That might explain something. “Well, all the ghosts I’ve ever met have been able to feel it. It helps lead you to people who can help you move on.” He resisted asking how long he had been dead for, unsure how much of a touchy subject it would be.

The ghost frowned at that. “What makes you think I’m a ghost.” It was too deadpan to be a question.

“I’m a witch. We tend to know these things,” Tyler said.

There was no response to that, but the guy had stopped looking at him, shuffling around. If he left, Tyler wasn’t too sure he would return- to be as steady as he was, he must have been lingering between realms for at least a year.

The clock said it was quarter past five in the afternoon. The shop closed at six. “I can close the shop now, we can talk about this,” Tyler suggested.

Hesitant, the ghost gave a nod. “Only if you don’t mind.”

“Nah, of course I don’t. I’m used to helping ghosts move on,” he said, flipping the sign to closed and leading the ghost into the office, where people wouldn’t see Tyler talking to the air. “I’m Tyler, by the way.”

“Josh.”

Tyler gave a nod to show he heard, and sat down behind the desk, encouraging Josh to sit opposite to him. He was used to this process by now, so he shuffled papers in a charade of purpose as he began to speak. If he didn’t do something with his hands as he began explaining, he would get nervous. “So, I assume you’ve been dead for a while, or maybe you’re just good at moving between realms. You’ll already know that ghosts get attracted to white magic, and that’s how they find me or some other witch to help them move on.”

Josh was fiddling with his hands, silent, but from the way he shifted, Tyler could tell he wanted to say something. He had helped ghosts for long enough to learn how to read body language, at least somewhat. “What would it mean if you couldn’t feel magic, or you weren’t attracted to it?” he asked.

Tyler paused at that. His first thought would be that if you couldn’t feel the pull of white magic, then you couldn’t be a ghost. But if Josh brought it up, and had obviously managed to go so long without moving on, then Tyler worried that Josh didn’t feel it. “I’ve never heard of that happening before. I can ask my friend Pete about it. He’s a better witch than me.”

Josh shrugged and shook his head a bit, as if to tell him he didn’t mind whether or not he asked further into it. Tyler wasn’t sure how much interpreting he would have to do with Josh. When the pause wasn’t filled by Josh, Tyler continued his practiced explanation.

“If you have a spell on you or you’ve been close to magic when you die, you don’t move on. Like a protective spell would help to keep you alive, but then if you actually died, it would stop you from fully moving on. But weak spells don’t really stop you from leaving all that much, so you’re almost stuck in the realm of the dead completely, and when you’re in the realm of the living, you flicker a lot, but it’s really easy to fix. You’ve just gotta remove the protective spell.” He looked at Josh to make sure he was following, met by attentive eyes which broke contact as soon as it was made.

“Stronger magic and black magic make it harder for me to help you move on, because moving on happens in stages, and the stronger or darker the magic, the earlier stage you get stuck at. When that happens, they tend to get stuck more in the realm of the living than the dead, so they flicker less and you can touch them better, but it’s harder to undo and help them move on. I need to know what magic there is stopping you from moving on so I can remove it. Do you know if anyone put a spell on you before you died?”

At that, Josh flinched. “No.”

Tyler nodded, deciding Josh’s death must have a sensitive subject. “Okay, would you mind me performing a ritual to find out what magic there is on you?”

Josh shook his head and sighed. “You can’t help me,” he said, standing up, Tyler assumed more to make a point than anything, before moving to the realm of the dead.

Ghosts always got the last word.

***

He didn’t see the cute ghost boy for another week, which worried him in all honesty. It was wrong what people said about ghosts becoming evil and corrupt if they were unable to move on, but it couldn’t be nice, with no one permanent to talk to, floating around with no purpose. If Josh had really been stuck for years, unable to even feel the pull of white magic to give him direction, it must have been worse than any Hell that might exist.

When Josh came back, he was cautiously trusting. “I don’t want to move on.”

Tyler wanted to tell him he had to, that however long he had spent drifting had already been too long. If he said that, he was sure Josh would flicker out of the realm of the living. “Yeah?” he asked.

Josh nodded. “Um- can people see me?”

Tyler shook his head. “There are charms and spells which allow ghosts to be seen by the living, and there are rumours that certain people are born able to see ghosts. Me and the owner of this place both have spells on us so we can see you guys.”

Josh shifted. “Are there any, like, spells, or charms or something, that would make everyone see me?”

At this, Tyler frowned. Ghosts trying to pass as the living, becoming visible to everyone and trying to live out normal lives- it wasn’t right. Not because ghosts didn’t deserve to live like that, but because there was a time when everything had to end. Death, even if it came at too young an age, too sudden, too brutal, was an ending to an existence in the realm of the living. Tyler wasn’t sure if there were spells for it, or how effective they would be, but that was verging on bringing back the dead. He couldn’t.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Tyler said, not warning Josh away from it, but stating that it wasn’t something he would ever do.

“Not- uh, not forever. I just. Do you need any help around here? There’s only you working here, right?” he asked.

“I’m the only one working here, but I’m doing fine. You can hang around if you want, but I’m not doing that.”

Josh deflated at that, and nodded vigorously. “Yeah,” he agreed, looking embarrassed to have asked.

“It’s cool, man. Hang around here as long as you want. It’s nice having company. Just not visible to anyone who isn’t a witch, yeah?”

Josh nodded, looking only marginally less uncomfortable. “What should I do?”

Tyler smiled. “Whatever you want. Put some music on, maybe. Can you touch phones?”

Josh placed his hand on the desk to demonstrate his ability to touch. “Should manage.”

Tyler connected his phone to the speaker system and handed it over to Josh, watching him marvel at it, grinning at the screen as he tapped. The ghost didn’t seem to notice his own strange behaviour, or the amused eyes resting on him, until he looked up to say, “I don’t really know how to use this.”

Tyler laughed. He had guessed as much. The hold was awkward and the touches too firm and unpracticed, like he was doubtful it would work. “How do you not know how to use phones, dude?” he asked, beckoning Josh around to where he stood.

“Been a while.” Tyler didn’t comment on that. An unspoken rule was ‘don’t ask how or when they died’. It wasn’t something that should be forced out of people, but something that should be accepted with respect if offered. He swerved the subject back on track, back to music.

“C’mon, do you have any songs you particularly like? Or do you just wanna look through the music I have?” he asked, looking around Josh’s shoulder at the screen. He hadn’t opened any apps yet, and Tyler was pretty sure he had just been flicking back and forth between the pages of apps.

“There’s a particular song I wanna play.”

Tyler busied himself organising the shelves and checking up on stocks as Josh spent a good five minutes working out how to play the song. It took some restraint not to jump when funky beats started playing through the speakers, which Tyler could identify as being David Bowie, but couldn’t name the song.

“What’s this?” he asked, replacing the jar of basil on the shelf.

“Ashes to Ashes by Bowie,” he said, looking sheepish now that he was being questioned on his music choices.

“I like it. Didn’t peg you as an eighties guy.” The camo jacket, ripped black jeans, and snapback hadn’t really screamed ‘eighties fan’ at any point. Tyler had been expecting some punk to come buzzing through the speakers, not this. He had never been an eighties guy himself, but he could appreciate it, even if the lyrics were mumbled too much for him to understand half of them.

Josh made a few movements as if to dismiss him, bobbing his head and twitching a shoulder. “I like eighties.”

“It’s good. You should show me more sometime,” he said, hoping the guy wouldn’t be scared off by implied commitment. Tyler wanted him to stick around, though. The Serpent Under wasn’t such a busy place, and there was only so many times he could play his favourite songs on repeat before he tired of it.

Josh seemed to lighten at that, some tension seeping from his shoulders. “Yeah, I will.”

However long the guy had been dead for, it didn’t seem like he’d been talking to anyone much during that time. Talking didn’t seem like something he was used to or overly comfortable with- not that Tyler minded it. Josh seemed like a sweet dude. He would loosen up if they hung around together and became friends.

But, wait, no. They couldn’t be friends. He was still a ghost, and he would leave, maybe in a month, maybe a year. Tyler couldn’t hold him back like that. How fantastic that he would remember this only after committing to allow Josh to hang around in the shop and share his eighties music.

The song ended, autoplaying more Bowie, more familiar to Tyler than the last one. They listened, Tyler humming along when he could, Josh sitting on one of the four chairs surrounding the central table. It was there mainly to make the shop seem spooky, because people who weren’t witches liked to believe that witches did seances at old oak tables like that. They didn’t at all, but it was a handy place to eat lunch, and Josh was making good use of it now.

They didn’t speak much, in equal parts due to Josh’s apparent nerves and Tyler’s interest in the music. Some of the songs were more questionable, Tyler would say, but it was endearing to see the supposedly punk ghost bopping his head to the beat, smiling when he heard Tyler’s accompaniments to the songs.

No matter what rules Tyler had set in place for himself about not befriending ghosts, he wanted this one to come back. If he kept on like this, he knew he had no chance of abiding by that rule, but he would take what he got.

***

Pete came by the shop the next day, the smell of roses wrapped around him, dirt clinging underneath his short nails. A few years back, he had painted his nails an often-chipped black, which might suit him now, if only to cover up the dirt. Tyler doubted Pete minded it, though. More likely, he enjoyed it, liked the reminder of his plants as he tried to pick it away. Patrick complained about it, but in a fond way that Tyler knew meant he didn’t really mind, because Pete was so happy with his plants.

Pete was at the shop under the pretense of making sure ‘everything was doing fine’, which meant he just wanted to hang out and bother Tyler as he tried to do his job. He lounged back in one of the chairs at the seance table, propping his feet up and nudging Tyler with the toe of his shoe whenever he was in range. Tyler had half a mind to tell him to leave, but this was technically his shop, and he had brought Cheetos.

It was during his lunch hour that Josh materialised in the shop, jumping back with a flicker when he saw Pete at the table. Pete was unalarmed by the new arrival, used to ghosts popping into the shop without warning.

“Hey,” Pete said, grinning at Josh. “Tyler didn’t tell me there was a new ghost in town.”

Josh upturned his lips stiffly in reply, glancing at Tyler. At the ghosts discomfort, Pete stood up. “Well, I think Patrick wants me back at the flower shop. He tends to panic if I leave for more than five minutes. See you later, Ty.”

Tyler snorted at Pete’s lie about Patrick panicking when he was gone. If anything, he would be relieved not to have Pete clinging to him for a while. “Bye, Pete.”

The bells above the door jingled as he left, and Tyler threw Josh an apologetic look. “That’s Pete, the owner of the place. More interested in his plants now, so I get to look after The Serpent.”

Josh gave a nod. “I didn’t think you’d have people here during your lunch hour.”

“Neither did I, but Pete comes in sometimes. It’s fine though, bro, he used to be a witch, too. He’s cool with ghosts, even if he likes plants more than magic now.” Tyler huffed and rolled his eyes, exaggerated. Even if he didn’t understand it, he didn’t mind at all that Pete had moved onto flowers, but it had became a joke for him and his witch friend, Debby, to act bitter over it.

When Tyler was done with his little display of petulance, he looked back to see Josh fidgeting again, which made Tyler frown. The guy would be calm enough during their conversations, then random things seemed to make him pull back. Tyler couldn’t tell what it was setting it off, wanted to apologise but didn’t know what for. He settled on trying to catch what it was that he said wrong, to avoid upsetting him quite so often.

“Did you want to show me more music?” he asked, eating a Cheeto and internally thanking Josh for making Pete leave quick enough to forget to take them with him.

Josh nodded, looking more at home as soon as some weird, sad synth started playing through speakers, later joined by a mumbling voice. Tyler didn’t know much about the guy, but seeing him relax as soon as his strange eighties music started playing was endearing.

“Is this Bowie?” Tyler asked, making Josh laugh.

“No, it’s Japan. Ghosts,” he said. Tyler hummed in agreement, pretending he had ever even heard of them before, and grinned at Josh.

“Ghosts,” he said, not elaborating. He could have probably made a better joke out of that, but he was satisfied enough with just stating song names in the hopes that someone would find it in any way amusing.

Josh gave him the ‘please don’t’ look again, forcing a laugh.

Tyler ate to excuse not talking to Josh for a minute or two. That was it? Saying that Josh was a ghost? What sort of dead guy refused to accept they were dead? If Tyler’s knowledge and years of experience with ghosts told him anything, it was that Josh had been dead a long while, longer than anyone deserved to be stuck jerking between realms for. By now, anyone with sense would have accepted their fate, deciding to move on instead of being dragged between realms, friendless.

Whether his aversion to the word was concerning or not, Tyler would prefer not to make the guy sad. No more calling him a ghost, then, or bringing up his death. The conversation was mercifully changed by Josh, onto Pete and his flower shop. A few minutes had Josh no longer stuck in his military rigidness (which at least suited the camo jacket he was wearing, which Tyler kept playfully telling him was lame, even if he pulled it off) and he had slipped into grinning, creases at the corners of his eyes as Tyler tried to remember the names of plants Pete had mentioned, resorting to describing them when he couldn’t remember.

Tyler hadn’t expected Josh’s love of plants (he claimed he was rusty and he hadn’t thought of them too much in a while, but Tyler still didn’t understand half of the stuff he was saying) but it made sense that the sun would love those it gave life too. At that thought, Tyler almost laughed out loud, which caught Josh’s attention.

They had only just met and spoken a couple of times. Perhaps it would overstep a boundary to tell him, but Josh pouted when Tyler said it was nothing, and they had been relaxed enough since Pete had left.

“I was just thinking that it makes sense the sun would love flowers and everything,” he said, mirth playing around his lips. It was flirting, he knew, and Josh might well be straight, but that didn’t stop him.

“I’m- I’m the sun?” Josh asked, blushing the same colour as the pink dahlias which he had spoken of earlier, and Tyler knew he had seen at Pete’s shop.

Tyler affirmed this with a tip of his head.

The response he got to this was too mumbled for Tyler to hear, but he assumed it was something along the lines of ‘thanks’. The conversation drifted back to plants, then Pete, then Star Wars, and Josh’s skin was back to the same colour as normal, Tyler’s flirt forgotten.

***

It was a Wednesday, and they never had many customers on Wednesday afternoons. In the whole time Josh had been there, only one customer had came in, to buy a few incense sticks and some basil. (“You witch boys have the best basil. Much nicer than the stuff from the supermarket,” the woman had said, to which Tyler had nodded and Josh had laughed. It was the first time Tyler had heard Josh laugh so loud and genuine, and he suited happiness even better than most.)

Given the lack of customers, and Josh leaving a few minutes ago, Tyler guessed he could risk a phone call to Pete. The flower shop wasn’t open yet, so until then, calling him during work hours would be fine. When it was about a ghost, it was practically business anyway.

“Hey Pete. What would you do if you thought someone had been dead for years but they still didn’t like being called a ghost or anything because they were in complete denial?” he asked, tapping his bitten-short nails against the counter.

“That’s kinda messed up, dude. You gotta move on,” Pete said. Tyler huffed.

“I know, man. But you’ve seen Josh, yeah? I think he died like. Maybe even five years ago. It’s hard to tell,” Tyler said. “He won’t let me check out what spell is keeping him here, but he can touch things and he doesn’t flicker unless he’s leaving. Seems pretty out of practice at a couple things.”

“I dunno. Give him like, a month maybe? Try get him to realise he needs to move on, and if he doesn’t accept it, I’ll talk to him.”

Tyler reminded himself that Pete wouldn’t be able to see if he bopped his head in response. “Thanks man.”

“No problem, Ty.”

***

The next day, Josh suggested that Tyler put some of his own music on (“I love Duran Duran, but I’ve listened to them so much lately,” Josh said, face suggesting it pained him to come so close to insulting them) and they had listened to that in the background to their talking.

Josh was a funny guy. Sometimes, when Tyler said something wrong, they spoke almost like two strangers, but when Josh relaxed, they had the same sense of humour. That was to say, they both liked making terrible puns, laughing at themselves too much, and pretending to be assholes.

(“I love David Bowie,” Josh said, after a good ten minutes of insisting he was a lizard.

“David Bowie? More like… David Wowie. Because he’s so good,” Tyler said, and ended up laughing far too hard. Josh gave him a look of disdain but ended up joining in with Tyler, who was at this point wheezing, and burying his face in his palms.)

They were in one of their more comfortable moments when a regular customer and Tyler’s friend, Debby, walked in. She was a witch too, and did white magic at home sometimes. Nothing too serious, just charms and occasional tea leaf or palm readings. For her, it was more about trying to charm herself with good luck and impressing party guests, though Tyler had tried convincing her to do cooler things with magic, like healing near-dead plants (Pete’s favourite spell) and some animation spells. She wasn’t convinced, even when Tyler had excitedly showed her a chocolate frog he had animated to jump around like the ones in Harry Potter. After that, he had given up trying to convince her.

“Hey Tyler. Who’s your ghost friend?” she asked, smiling at Josh as she dragged her fingers across the jars. She never stopped going on about how cool The Serpent Under was, which might have been annoying if Tyler wasn’t even more in love with the place.

Josh twitched as she asked, which further confirmed Tyler’s suspicions that he was in denial. Debby seemed to notice too, glancing at Tyler for an explanation. _Later_ , he mouthed, but said, “This is Josh.” He felt bad speaking for Josh, but he didn’t seem to like talking to strangers too much.

She grinned. “Nice to meet you. Tyler doesn’t usually make friends with ghosts.” As she said that, she winked at Josh, and Tyler blushed. It was true, but she didn’t have to _say_ that, she could have pretended he didn’t have a soft spot for Josh.

Josh looked over to confirm this, and Tyler didn’t miss his little smile when he saw Tyler, a hand running through his too-short hair (Josh had complained when Tyler got it cut, saying he preferred it when it was longer, even if he still looked cute).

“Anyway, just wanted to ask you something, Ty,” Debby said, and Josh started shifting again.

“I’ll just go for a little while,” he suggested, and left despite protests from both Debby and Tyler.

“Did I say something?” she asked, to which Tyler shook his head.

“I don’t think he likes talking to people he doesn’t know too much.”

Debby nodded. “Well, I was just going to invite you over. Me and Jenna are gonna hang tomorrow. You could bring your friend, if you wanted,” she said, and Tyler shoved her.

“I’ll invite him, but don’t you dare try embarrass me,” he pouted.

“Nah, of course I wouldn’t. You do that all by yourself.”

As he attempted to whine about how mean she was to him, she laughed and handed over a couple of bags of loose tea leaves and a scented candle. Whatever, he would invite Josh anyway. It would be nice to avoid third-wheeling for once with Jenna and Debby.

***

Tyler hadn’t really expected Josh to agree to come along, or for him to almost blush when Tyler mumbled about how he always third-wheeled and he liked Josh’s company. The man had smiled warmly, leant towards Tyler as if to give him a shove, but passed right through. Tyler snorted, giggling as Josh recovered from his almost-fall.

He hadn’t realised how fond he had grown of Josh until then, admiring Josh’s grin and wishing he could have felt something when Josh had fallen through him. It should piss him off, really, that he had decided to befriend the _one_ person who had been dead for a year or more without accepting it, and then to maybe even develop a crush on him, not even sure if their compliments and flirting meant anything. But Tyler could never resist someone as adorably passionate as Josh, who murmured David Bowie songs under his breath and laughed at his puns. He was weak to cute boys.

They walked to Debby’s together. She lived less than ten minutes walk from the shop, so a bus would be pointless, and awkward if he wanted to speak to Josh. Talking to the air had never gotten Tyler anything more than funny looks in the past, and Josh had said something about how he didn’t mix well with public transport.

Hanging out with Debby and Jenna wasn’t uncomfortable at all, and Tyler meant that genuinely. It had taken long enough for Josh and Tyler to reach the level they were at now, where they could give each other nudges and joke around and smile widely at each other for no reason aside from their eye contact. Of course, Josh wasn’t the same with Debby and Jenna, but he didn’t retract into himself.

He laughed at their jokes, fitting in far better than Tyler expected. There were still occasional inside jokes he didn’t understand, but Tyler would lean over and explain, and Josh would laugh brightly, ducking his head towards Tyler to hide his face somewhat.

They gravitated closer to each other as the evening wore on, until they were thigh-to-thigh, their hands naturally falling close. Out of instinct, Tyler moved his hand so it was on top of Josh’s, attempting to interlace their fingers. No contact was made, no feeling of warmth like from a living body, no feeling of cold like it was in the myths perpetuated by horror movies. Part of Tyler was relieved; Debby had seen his move, how his face must have fell, but Josh was still chatting away to Jenna, who was trying to convince him to watch America’s Next Top Model.

Debby was trying to communicate something with her eyebrows and the set of her lips, but Tyler looked away, instead looking between Jenna and Josh as they chatted. He didn’t want Josh to see them doing that, to catch onto his failed attempt at hand holding. Frick, Tyler was lame, crushing on the cute, unreachable boy. Literally unreachable. He couldn’t touch him. He was dead.

There were times when Tyler could almost understand why Debby complained about his jokes.

***

The Serpent Under was closed on Sundays, and Pete had spent at least half an hour lamenting how much work he had left to do before he opened the shop, so Tyler brought Josh with him to Pushing Daisies. Josh had perked up as soon as Tyler had mentioned the shop, had almost vibrated when Tyler suggested he come along so he could talk to Pete about plants.

Pete and Josh’s second meeting went better than their first; Josh stayed in the room, for one thing. Their conversation was fluid, and Josh was moving his hands about a lot, touching his hair absently and brushing it back into place after he dipped forwards to smell a flower. He was comfortable, less jolted by Pete’s loud laughs and tendency to touch the person he was talking to than Tyler thought he would be. The first time Pete had reached for his shoulder, only for his hand to pass right through, Josh had jumped, but they made a joke out of it- especially after Pete continued to forget, attempting to lead Josh around only to be unable to touch him.

Whilst they bonded over plants, Tyler helped Patrick set out the latest delivery, which Tyler was unable to identify as anything more than ‘some plants’. If he kept on learning at this rate, he would be a plant expert in no time.

Tyler frowned when he found a plant, pale green and cream leaves, with stems branching off and trailing down to the floor. The whole plant sagged, leaves half-shrivelled and turning a dying brown. Tyler didn’t know much about plants, but he knew it was dying. The sight was disheartening, and he knew he would be able to fix it with the right charm, but he didn’t have the herbs around.

Josh stood at his side, his body melding into Tyler occasionally as he leaned close to Tyler’s shoulder, looking at the plant. “Oh,” he said, disappointed.

“I could fix it with my witchy powers but I don’t have the herbs around,” he said, placing it down on the table next to the healthier plants.

“It was really cute,” Josh said, brushing his fingers across the leaves of a healthy version of the plant.

“Yeah?” He couldn’t understand it himself. Sure, flowers were pretty, and the intricate patterns that some plants had built into them looked amazing, but he couldn’t connect ‘cute’ with the plant in front of him.

Josh didn’t say anything to confirm, but Tyler assumed he was being serious. The guy loved plants. With a quiet hum, Josh let his fingers slip away from the leaves they had rested upon, and walked away, talking to Pete about how to prune orchids. Tyler didn’t understand a word, but Josh’s voice was like warm breezes and his laughs were like rain, so nonetheless he listened like Josh spoke gospel words.

***

They were lounging in Tyler’s apartment, Josh hanging upside-down and half inside a wall, when Tyler said, “I can’t believe it’s already the fourteenth. Pete’s shop is opening in like. Two days. No wonder Patrick keeps texting me about how much Pete is stressing.”

Josh flipped over onto his front, resting his chin in his palms. “Of what month?”

Tyler laughed, shaking his head at Josh. But what need did he have to remember things like what month it was? He was dead, with nothing grounding him other than the rise and fall of the sun. Until the last couple of months, when he had stumbled upon Tyler, he had nothing to force him to keep track of things like time and date. “June,” Tyler answered, after what he was sure must have been too long a pause.

“Oh,” Josh said, tagging on, “It’s my birthday soon.”

At this, Tyler jumped up, pulling his legs underneath himself, slapping his thighs to show his excitement.

Josh shook his head at the look on Tyler’s face. “No, I was just saying. I haven’t celebrated it in years.”

“No, no, Josh, we gotta celebrate it! Like, not a party if you don’t want, but at least let me buy you something,” Tyler insisted. “Wait, when is it? I need to get you something, Joshie.” He used the nickname jokingly, but Josh’s cheeks were stained ruddy, as Tyler was getting more used to seeing, but was never any less adoring of how Josh looked when he was embarrassed. It was precious.

“Um, it’s the eighteenth. No party,” Josh mumbled.

Triumphant, Tyler agreed. In a surge of affection, he almost leaned forwards to kiss Josh’s cheek, but the distance between them would give him too long to think, and he would only slip through him like he was sunlight, anyway.

The conversation moved on.

***

Their first argument left Tyler terrified. He had never been good at dealing with anger directed at him, nor knowing how to apologise. Saying sorry never felt enough, but anything else felt like begging.

They argued because Josh had been stiff all day, sad and withdrawn. When he finally began to talk, it was a ramble about David Bowie. Tyler had asked him what the song was called, and Josh had told him, then gotten distracted saying how much he enjoyed it, pointing out his favourite lyric.

With a fond laugh, Tyler agreed. “You keep saying it’s your favourite.” He meant it affectionately- he never tired of hearing it- but Josh darkened, pulled back again.

He shrugged, tight. “I like it,” he said. He could practically see him pulling up the walls around himself.

“Yeah, yeah, I like hearing you say it!” he reassured, but Josh sighed.

“I’ll just. Leave,” he said, and disappeared with a quiet, “Sorry.”

He came back two hours later, in the middle of Tyler dealing with a customer. Tyler made eye contact with him, and rushed girl through the checkout, waiting until he was alone with Josh.

“I didn’t mean it it like that, when I said it earlier,” Tyler apologised, not quite sure what it was he _had_ said. By now, he had forgotten, only remembered that it upset Josh.

With a sigh and a small smile, Josh dismissed the apology. “I was just in a bad mood today,” he said.

They hardly spoke after that, but it wasn’t the sort of silence that it had been before, where Tyler was desperate to fill it. It was comfortable, broken only by customers and Tyler’s quiet rearranging of shelves, putting out new stock and counting what they had.

Tyler often forgot, but Josh didn’t work here. There was nothing binding him to the little square room, the air heavy with heady smells of incense that sometimes almost choked him. He could go somewhere else, that smelt better or was more fun or full of plants. Instead, he decided to stay here with Tyler, lying across the top of one of the bookshelves like a sleepy cat. Tyler pretended he didn’t stare at him, his closed eyes, face softer than Tyler had ever seen it before. He was serene.

***

Usually, Tyler spent months ahead of someone’s birthday, unsure of what to buy them, but he knew what to buy Josh straight away. His mooning over plants made it easy, and Tyler went to Pete’s shop the day before his birthday to buy them. It was no secret that Tyler hadn’t a clue about plants, but Pete was more experienced, thankfully.

Tyler knew Josh liked orchids, if how much he spoke about them meant anything. Every time he had came into the shop, they were the first flowers he went over to, and he spoke about them whenever he came back from visiting Pete. He picked one up from one of the tables, noting that there were three other customers inside. The place wasn’t doing too badly.

“Hey, if you’re looking for something else, then green carnations are cool too,” Pete suggested, leading Tyler over to them with a smile. “And they mean ‘new friendship’, in flower language.”

At that, Tyler tilted his head. “Really? What do orchids mean?”

Pete glanced at the orchid that Tyler held. “Purple means admiration. Or something like that,” he said. “But, yeah, Josh knows flower language so he’ll dig that you got him that.”

Tyler grinned, hoping Pete was right. He wasn’t often this concerned with birthday presents, excluding, perhaps, his mom’s, but he wanted Josh to be happy. This was his first in years, essentially. It had to be special.

Pete grinned as he rang up the flowers, typing into the register. “He’ll like them,” he assured, giving a wink. Tyler gave him a shove and picked the flowers up again, walking out the shop.

***

Josh grinned the minute he came into the shop on his birthday. The carnation and orchid were both on the table in the centre, a bow stuck onto the pot of each. He saw them straight away, and walked over to them, picking them up and looking at them with a grin. Tyler watched him, admiring his smile and the way his hair was always a mess, but he pulled it off.

“Ty, is this a green carnation?” he asked. He had started using that nickname soon after Tyler started using ‘Joshie’. It slipped off his tongue naturally, and Tyler felt like he had known him so much longer than the couple of months it had been.

Tyler nodded. “Yeah, Pete said it means ‘new friendship’,” he said, idle. At that, Josh laughed, and Tyler savoured the sound, despite his confusion. Josh offered no explanation, so Tyler ventured, “Does it… not mean ‘new friendship’?”

Josh shook his head. “No, it means ‘gay man’, Tyler.”

At that, Tyler was the one who was blushing, and he knew his tan couldn’t cover it up. He was sure he wasn’t being subtle; with any other friend, they would have laughed it off. Yes, it was true, Tyler was very gay, and a man. With Josh, it implied too much, the same thing his staring and quick compliments and joking nicknames did, but more explicit.

“It’s cute though, Ty, and I’m gay, too,” he said. “Or pan.”

“I’m homo- _romantic_ , which is pretty gay,” Tyler said, leaving the ‘asexual’ to hang in the air, unsaid. He had almost said it often enough, with his wrinkled nose and mutters of, “Sex is gross,” whenever someone brought it up, or a couple kissed in front of them.

It didn’t feel like a coming out, when he said it to Josh. It had done with his parents, and Pete and Patrick and Jenna and Debby, who he loved all so much, but couldn’t help but fear their rejection, because Pete loved sex, and used to joke about it all the time. Now, not so much, as much because he had matured as it was because he didn’t want to make Tyler uncomfortable. A few years ago, it had been terrifying, though.

It was either testament to how much happier Tyler was with himself than he was a few years ago, or how easy things were with Josh, that his heart didn’t at all tighten as he came out to Josh. Maybe it was both.

***

“What year is it?”

They were watching the first episode of Star Wars, and it was dragging along. Tyler often defended it for not being as bad as people made it out to be, but that didn’t mean it was good.

“Um, it’s set way in the past, but in some really far off galaxy,” Tyler said, only slightly concerned that Josh had forgotten. It said as much at the start of every single one of the movies, after all.

“No,” he said. “I mean, like, right now.”

That wasn’t what Tyler had been expecting. Part of him wanted to ask Josh how he didn’t know, but it wasn’t like there was anything much helping him keep track. Especially if he had spent time in the realm of the dead, which the living didn’t know much about, but there was enough evidence to suggest that time passed strangely there. Whether that was because of an actual change in the passage of time, or it was merely impossible to tell how fast it was travelling, no one had a clue.

Delayed, Tyler replied.

“Twenty-fifteen,” he said, drawing out each syllable slowly.

Josh was even slower when he repeated them. “Twenty-fifteen,” he said. _Twen-ty-fif-teen_. He was learning the sounds, trying to relate them to now, the year they lived in.

The curiosity got the best of Tyler, finally, after months. Now, they were close enough to forget if he didn’t want to talk about it, Tyler knew this. “What year did you think it was?”

Josh thought this over. “Maybe twenty-twelve?” he asked. “I don’t keep track well. It’s been a while.”

Three years. He was three years off.

When did someone stop counting, stop being able to keep track? After a year, two, five? Ten years? Had he been dead so long? The thoughts rattled in his mind, splitting his skull and making his years ring. Josh, poor Josh, had been alone so long- because he hadn’t spoken much of the time between dying and meeting Tyler, but he had said he knew no one in that time. He wandered around, and sometimes spoke to witches, sometimes to ghosts, but nothing consistent. So many years. No one, least of all Joshua William Dun, the man sat beside him, deserved to be so utterly alone for as many years as he had been.

“How long?” he asked. He didn’t say, _since you died_ , but he knew, of course he knew.

“Um. Since eighty-nine,” he said. “I was born in sixty-two.”

The eighties. He had been dead since- since the _eighties_. Thirty years. Could it really be thirty years? No, it was more. Thirty-six years, he worked out, repeating the calculation because, surely, that couldn’t be right. Did he say the right year? Josh acted like had been born when Tyler had, for the most part.

He knew that he was kidding himself. Josh had truly spent that many years dead. Tyler felt sick at the thought. How had none of the witches who found him helped, made him move on?

Tyler could not blame them. He was not making Josh move on, either. He provided friendship, permanence, sure, but that was not the same as moving on. That was not what Josh needed.

On screen, Darth Maul was spinning his light saber, doing over-dramatic backflips to avoid small attacks that in no way warranted his theatrical performances. For a second, he let himself get distracted by it, the quiet battle music. When he turned back to Josh, his eyes were trained on it, blank as he followed their ducks and lunges.

Tyler wanted to ask, _Why haven’t you moved on?_ He wanted to ask, _How did you manage?_ He wanted to ask, _Are you okay?_ He wished he had realised earlier, had made Josh move on rather than befriend him, keeping him in the realm of the living for longer still.

Except, that was a lie. Tyler was selfish, and wanted more than anything to keep Josh as his friend. He could excuse it by saying that Josh wanted to stay in the realm of the living, and he couldn’t change his mind, and they didn’t even know what was keeping him here to be able to help him move on.

They were all hollow lies. Tyler said nothing and spent the rest of the movie cursing himself for not connecting the dots (his music, not being able to use a phone, why he was so steady in the realm of the living, his jokes about how it had ‘been a while’).

Witches could not turn back time to correct their wrongs, or for any other reason.

***

They didn’t mention it.

***

The orchid was blooming, the flowers on the carnation even healthier than when Tyler had bought it for Josh. It was a mix between Josh’s extensive knowledge of plants, and the crushed powders Tyler sprinkled on the soil.

Over time, more plants amassed in The Serpent Under: spider plants, the type Tyler had seen dying with their pale green and cream leaves; a polka-dot plant, with bright pink leaves; a wandering jew, with leaves shimmering silver and purple; succulents, lining the window sill to soak up as much sun as possible. A few weeks ago, Tyler would call most pink flowers roses, and now he for some reason knew that the scientific name for the orchid he had bought Josh was ‘phalaenopsis blume’.

He still didn’t care about plants, and could only appreciate them in looking at them and thinking, “That’s a nice plant,” but Josh spoke about them so often that he knew a decent amount about them.

He had started to populate his apartment with plants, too. The first time Josh had seen the cactus in his sitting room, it had made Josh grin so widely that he couldn’t resist buying more, until he had at least one plant in every room of his apartment, and five in the sitting room.

Jokingly, Josh had named the leafy cast iron plant they kept in the hallway Anakin, and it had stuck. Whenever he passed it, he gave a polite, “Hey, Anakin,” or if Josh was around, he would sometimes fake conversations with it. Debby had bore witness to his greetings once, when Josh wasn’t around. He had flushed when she asked him what he was doing.

“Josh named it Anakin,” he said, and she rolled her eyes.

“You’re so gay for him, Tyler,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder in sympathy. He wished he could say she was the only friend who had noticed, but he would be fooling himself. She was just the only one who had the nerve to joke about it.

If Josh wasn’t dead, maybe Pete would joke about it, too, but Tyler wasn’t oblivious to how Pete’s face hardened when he caught Tyler staring, occasionally. They had both made a mistake by befriending Josh, but it was safe to say that Tyler would be the one to suffer most out of the two of them.

***

Tyler had forgotten the promise Pete had made him- for a reason, he supposed. It wasn’t like either of them wanted to think about it, least of all when Josh was getting closer to Pete and Patrick, too.

Pete invited himself over to Tyler’s apartment, which he wouldn’t mind if he didn’t know what it was about. He didn’t say, “I need to talk to you about Josh,” or anything like that, but he said they needed to talk, face set solemn, and Tyler could think of only one thing they had to talk about.

They sat in the sitting room, cradling warm coffees in their hands. It was dim, the curtains closed and the light outside already dying as it approached nine o’clock. The apartment was cool, not yet warmed since Tyler’s return, and they kept their coats on. He knew Pete didn’t plan to stay long, anyway. As soon as he said what he had came to say, he would leave Tyler alone to process it.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t already been given enough time to think about it- ever since they met, Josh moving on, letting himself die, had been an inevitability. It was just that Tyler hadn’t ever wanted to think about it. When they first spoke, it had been the only thing on his mind. Another ghost to lay to rest, who just happened to be more stubborn than most, who had been stuck longer than most.

From there, Tyler had somehow lost his way (had chosen to become friends with Josh, had made the conscious, masochistic decision to befriend him) and helping Josh move on was shoved aside. He was greedy, and if Josh had been given more time with the living because of some spell binding him in place- well, Tyler would help Josh steal as many days as possible.

Pete was staring at him, waiting for something, maybe. For the Tyler to stop thinking so hard, for the words to come to him. Josh may already be dead, but sending him on would feel like killing him. Knowing how long he had been in between realms only made it more necessary for Tyler to do it, though.

“We said a month,” Pete said. A month, and then Josh was moving on. Tyler couldn’t remember when they made that deal to say how long it had been, but he guessed it had been longer than a month. At least two months now, verging upon three.

Tyler said nothing.

“Tyler, I love you and Josh, but he’s dead.” Tyler drew a deep breath when he said that, like he hadn’t braced himself for it to be said out loud, no matter how true he knew it was, or how many times he had silently reminded himself. “I know he doesn’t like to be called a ghost because he doesn’t like remembering he’s dead, but that’s what it’s like. You know he’s gotta move on. Who knows how long he’s just been fuckin’ trapped here for.”

Josh knew how long. Tyler knew how long.

“I can talk to him about it.”

Tyler shook his head. It felt like something he should do. Except, maybe he didn’t have to move on, maybe they could take more time, they could-

“Tyler. _No_.”

He hadn’t said a word, but the look on his face must have said it. Necromancy was twisted, dark magic, and they both knew it. Who knew what would happen if they tried it? He might be returned to his rotted skeleton, or he would possess someone’s body, or his body would be perfect but he would be cursed. Necromancy never ended up well for the witch or the ghost. “But I don’t want him gone,” he said, voice full of all the child-like helplessness he felt, the frustration and sense that he was wronged by some higher power if he could not have Josh and keep him.

“I know.” Pete’s lips were parted, as if to say more, but the air lifted and Josh was lounging on the table in front of them, starting when he saw Pete there. Tyler doubted Pete would have found the words, anyway.

At the sight of Josh, Tyler gave a laugh. It was only half-forced, but Josh had his eyes on Pete so he didn’t catch him out, didn’t question it.

Pete downed his coffee and stood. “I should get going,” he said, and Tyler was reminded of the first time Josh and Pete met.

“Hey, dude, we could all hang, or I could leave if I’m interrupting?” Josh said, the heavy weight of what was unsaid between Pete and Tyler not going unnoticed by him.

“Nah man, I was just about to go anyway,” he said, placing down the empty mug. “I’ll let myself out.”

Tyler felt rude to let him do so, but there would be no words shared if Tyler walked him to the door, least of all with Josh right there.

Josh gave Tyler a look, asking, but it wasn’t time for Tyler to talk about that, not yet. He dropped Josh’s gaze, and waited until he started speaking about what he had done whilst he was hanging out with Jenna before he met it again.

Tyler would be lying if he said he listened to every word. He didn’t take in much of what Josh was saying, and reply he made was short, generic, mainly agreement and laughing when it seemed appropriate. He could see Josh growing more restless, pulling away and speaking less as Tyler made it impossible for him to not notice Tyler’s distance.

Josh shuffled, and Tyler sighed. He was being pissy, trying to upset Josh, he knew. Not because he thought Josh deserved to be upset, or any other real reason. He thought, maybe, it was to push him away, to make him decide to leave rather than Tyler having to force him to leave. Or, maybe it was to release the anger, the injustice he felt, directing it at the only person near him.

He spat out the words before he could begin to regret them. “Josh, can’t you tell I don’t want you here? Screw off, man.” To some people, that could be shaken off easy enough, but he knew Josh. He knew Josh wasn’t always sure Tyler wanted him there, needed his smiles and reassurances and for him to say, “You coming, Josh?” for him to feel welcome. He was taking that away, stripping away his confidence, and he hoped Josh didn’t forgive him. He didn’t deserve it when he made such low blows.

Josh was shaking minutely, breathing deep and fast. Tyler wasn’t sure if ghosts needed air.

“I’m sorry, Josh, I’m so sorry,” he said, hating himself for acting like an asshole when Josh had been nothing but kind to him. The words didn’t fall on deaf ears, or any ears at all. Josh had slipped away.

Tyler texted Pete and Jenna, asking them to tell Josh he was sorry if they saw him. Tyler couldn’t follow him into the realm of the dead, couldn’t work out where he would be. It wasn’t like he had a house or a phone, and the only places Tyler knew he went often were Pushing Daisies, The Serpent Under, and Jenna’s apartment.

***

It wasn’t until the next day that he saw Josh again. He was waiting outside of Tyler’s apartment, rather than kicking back on the couch like he usually did. Tyler locked eyes with him, an apology hovering on his lips. It didn’t fall out. He unlocked the door, walking in with a look over his shoulder to make sure Josh followed. He did.

It was only once they were inside, Tyler sat on the couch and Josh hovering by the doorway to the kitchen, that either said anything. “I’m sorry Josh, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it, just- Pete spoke to me, and he said some things I didn’t like thinking about, and I upset you and I shouldn’t have.” The apologies didn’t feel like enough, and Josh was shaking his head.

“Tyler,” he said, Tyler silencing as soon as he spoke. “Tyler, I’m not angry. You said some stuff, I got upset, we’re okay now. I don’t wanna argue about it, I feel fine. I wandered about a bit and Debby saw me and we talked, she said it wasn’t true and you were just upset.”

Unsure, Tyler agreed. He hadn’t meant what he had said, but forgiveness was something he struggled to accept and either gave too easy or held back too long. He didn’t want to let Josh make the mistake of forgiving too easy.

“What did you and Pete talk about,” Josh asked, and it wasn’t a question. He knew, and Debby did too, had probably hinted at it when the two of them spoke.

There was a stutter in the conversation, full of Tyler breathing too deep, filling his lungs up too much, like water, like he was drowning.

“Nothing I want to talk about,” Tyler said. Josh dropped it, and Tyler exhaled a long breath, until his lungs were empty of everything.

His next inhale came easier than the ones before, as did his next words. For now, they wouldn’t talk about it, just like they wouldn’t talk about how long Josh had been trapped, just like they wouldn’t talk about how he had died, just like they wouldn’t talk about yet another thing they would rather forget.

At some point, Tyler knew, they would have to talk about it, all of it. He didn’t know how long.

***

Tyler got back home to find another plant in the living room. Josh had left the shop for the last couple hours, and had presumably bought it and put it on a table in front the south-facing window. It was a large plant, sitting in a pot about as big as a decent-sized cooking pan, which was on top of a tray of wet stones. The leaves were deep, mossy green, and the flowers stark white.

Since Josh’s birthday, Tyler had bought him enough plants (he liked to pretend they were for himself, but everyone knew he only wanted them to see Josh smile at them) but this was the first that Josh had bought himself. It was silly that it made him so happy to see Josh put something of his own in the apartment, but he couldn’t help it. He wouldn’t dare say it aloud, but it was beginning to feel like _their_ apartment. He could come back from work and find Josh there, see him in the plants all around the house, feel his static where he would be able to smell him if he were human. Tyler needed to stop himself right there, stop his imaginings of them living together, because one way or another, Josh couldn’t stay forever.

But he was there for now, walking out of the kitchen with a mug of hot chocolate in his hands. “I can’t drink so I gotta just watch you drink hot chocolate and pretend I can still drink stuff,” he said, handing the cup to Tyler.

Their fingers didn’t fumble over each other, because Tyler passed right through him, only feeling the burning heat of the china. It was frustrating, to get so close and still be unable to feel. He distracted himself with a glance to the new flowers. “What’s up with the rocks?” he asked, nodding at the dish underneath the pot.

“It’s for humidity,” Josh said, looking like he had to swallow down his smile. Tyler had to struggle against his own joy, too; knowing Josh, he had to be nervous about asserting his presence in Tyler’s life so firmly. It meant more than it should do that he had went through with it. “It’s called gardenia.”

“What does it mean?” He always knew what the flowers he bought meant, even if it took a couple minutes for him to recall. He didn’t speak much about when he was alive, but he would say, “My grandparents loved plants and they would teach me about them.” He didn’t elaborate, and Tyler didn’t push him.

“It means ‘you are lovely’.” He was looking at the plant, not Tyler, prodding at the soil to make sure it was damp enough, even though Tyler knew he would have watered it as soon as he potted it. Tyler also knew that Josh had never spoken about gardenia before, had never expressed an outstanding love for it. There was no reason for him to be able to recall the meaning with no hesitation.

Tyler was looking too deep into this. He had probably been thinking about it because he had just bought it, he wasn’t sending some kind of message. As so often happened, Tyler was projecting his feelings onto Josh, convincing himself they were reciprocated. Josh had only ever said Tyler was his friend.

“Are you trying to tell me something?” he asked, unable to remember if he flirted with his other friends like this.

Josh broke eye contact, fixating on Tyler’s shoulder instead. “You’re the one who bought me gay flowers.”

At Tyler’s silence, he laughed.

***

“I never told you about how this happened.”

Tyler looked up from the book he had been reading. Lately, Josh had been staying in the apartment more often, even when they weren’t hanging out. It was homely, hearing him move around plants, filling up a jug to water them, or a chair moving against the floor as he sat down. In the last two days, Tyler had even started introducing him to the internet. He could use computers to an okay standard- better than Tyler’s grandpa, at least- but the internet had came after he died, and he had never used it himself.

“How what happened?” Tyler asked.

“How I- got here. Realm of the dead.” He was fiddling with a pillow, unzipping and zipping the case over and over, pressing the corners so they turned inside out. It would irritate him, but he knew it helped Josh cope. Soon enough, it would be background noise.

 _Died_ , Tyler thought to himself. _How you died_. “Will you tell me?”

He nodded, slight. “But I didn’t die. I’m not dead,” he insisted. Tyler said nothing, not wanting to upset him. It worried him, how hard Josh clung to his life. “I’m not. I just- there was this girl, when I wasn’t like this.”

Tyler dog-eared the page, closing his book. Josh told him about the charm he found in his house and had worn around his neck, and the girl that started showing up after he found it. Josh told him about Ashley, how she was like a hurricane, how she did what she wanted and took Josh with her, how her hair looked like a waterfall until she cut it all off. Tyler couldn’t tell if he had been in love with her or if she had just been his best friend, but he knew Josh had been swept up, pulled close. He had trusted her.

***

_When she told him she was dead, it didn’t surprise him too much. She spoke about death like it didn’t scare her, but with all the bitter resentment of someone who had been sentenced to death or lost someone they loved. He believed her as soon as she flickered out of the realm of the living, a nervous smile on her face. It wasn’t any sort of happiness, just her way of begging him to listen to her. He did, though the confusion and panic threatened to spill out._

_She toyed with the charm hanging from his neck, resting in the dimple between his collarbones. “This is what lets you see me. I thought you were a witch, when we first met.” He felt like fate had blessed him, to lead him to that necklace, to lead him to her._

_Her expression sobered once again, and she told him she needed his help. When coming from Ashley, that was never something good. It meant breaking into somewhere and her slipping away as he got caught, or sneaking out at three in the morning and almost having to skip school. This wasn’t like the other times, but it was no better._

_She was trapped, and she just wanted to move on. Josh nodded, as if it didn’t chip away a part of him when he heard those words, knowing that she wanted to leave. That she wanted his help to do it. Maybe he should feel special, that she chose him, but he could see nothing positive about it._

_She said dark magic had been used on her, and she would need him to do a spell for her. The book she brought him the next day was leather-bound, scorched and with a cover that was falling away. A page fell out as she opened it, but she slipped it back in as if she was used to it happening._

_It was written in Latin, and Josh only understood one or two words. ‘Mortem’ was used in a couple places, and he was smart enough to work out what that meant. Illness swelled up in his throat, his fingers digging into his palms and his thighs._

_“You just have to read this, Josh, and I’ll do all the rest. I’ll move on then,” she said, grinning wide with tears in her eyes. “Thank you for doing this for me. I’m sorry.”_

_He nodded._

_“Can you pronounce Latin words?” she asked, moving around the room to set up candles, lighting them all. She didn’t turn her face towards him._

_He could. The scientific names of all the flowers he knew were in Latin, and his grandma always taught him how to pronounce them. He had learnt the pronunciation rules from her, though he wouldn’t be able to muster up more than a few random words in Latin. He hadn’t said anything out loud, but Ashley must have taken it as a yes._

_“Read this, then.” She pointed to a paragraph, the writing split into lines the same way that poetry was. He hadn’t realised it would be now. He had thought this was a practice run, a dress rehearsal._

_His reading wasn’t fluent, and he had expected no less. She didn’t care, giving him encouraging looks whenever he glanced up from the text for approval. His throat stung with cuts from razor words that blunted as they hit his teeth and made their through him, to Ashley and whatever it was that allowed ancient words to have such power._

_He wasn’t paying attention as she spoke her own part, he was too busy shaking. /Don’t leave/, he wanted to say. She moved the book in front of him, pointing at a final line. With a small tilt of her head, she signalled him to speak it._

_He wasn’t sure what he had expected. He hadn’t been given long enough to think about it, he had only thought, /she will be gone/, but not, /this is how she will leave me/. He had expected pain, but not like this. This was physical. His bones were hurting, burning, and something was tugging at him, dragging him away from Ashley. She was stuck in place, stood in the middle of his bedroom._

_Desperate, he tossed, trying to free himself of whatever had grasped him, was trying to take him. His hands clawed towards her, but she didn’t look at him. She was on her knees, now, but he hadn’t noticed her fall. Her hands clutched her chest, and it was like stop motion, sharp jumps that he had to piece together. She was panting, shaking her head. Her mouth moved but he heard nothing._

_If he wasn’t being torn from her, he was sure he would hear screams. Instead, there were foggy sounds, low and pulsating, the type that hurt his ears and crushed his skull._

_It felt human. Whatever was dragging at him felt human, like hands. Ashley’s veins burnt blue, and she was flicking wildly now, no longer with seconds between each flash he saw, but years. She was degrading, aging, consumed by the blue pumped through her body. She was lying flat, still, when Josh could no longer fight against whatever stole him away._

***

None of what Josh had told him was the sort of thing Tyler could process or respond to. It was too much. Josh wasn’t dead, Josh had been used as part of some spell to bring a ghost back from the dead, and had ended up trapped in the realm of the dead. Josh had been used and had seen the dark magic burn through his friend, killing her.

Josh wasn’t dead. He wasn’t dead. Tyler might be able to save him.

This was not like anything Tyler had dealt with before. “We need to call Pete,” Tyler said. Josh said nothing.

***

Tyler’s living room was crowded with too many people. Pete, Patrick, Jenna, and Debby had all came along. Josh said he wanted them all to know what was happening at the same time, since it was about whether or not they would be able to save him.

Josh explained again, this time in less detail. Tyler couldn’t imagine anyone took the news too well, but he was only focussed on Pete. He was the one who would know if this made Josh able to be saved, brought back. The problem with bringing people back from the dead was the way it unbalanced the magic, cursed whoever was returned, and was unpredictable. Maybe, possibly, this would allow Josh to come back without a curse. The balance had already been thrown when he was forced into the realm of the dead, so bringing him back to the realm of the living might just fix that balance.

“Can’t we just put some spell on him to make everyone see him?” Jenna asked, met immediately by three witches shaking their heads.

“Coming to the realm of the living is like- I think it’s like swimming underwater.” Tyler looked at Josh to confirm this.

“Yeah. It’s fine for a little while, and the more you do it, the easier it is, but you can’t stay there forever, or else you just get pulled back to the realm of the dead,” Josh said. He wasn’t looking up. He didn’t like talking about this, and Tyler didn’t like that he couldn’t comfort him with a hand on his knee.

“And there are no spells that let ghosts be seen by everyone, all the spells and charms work on the living, not the dead,” Tyler added. Pete was agreeing absently, more concentrated on working through this in his head.

“I don’t know what we can do. We need to research it, I’ve only heard about stuff like this happening,” Pete said. “Let me call up some other witches, I’ll tell you what I find tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” Tyler said. The guests left, murmuring goodbyes, leaving just Josh and Tyler.

“Ty, do you think they can bring me back?” Josh was looking him in the eyes, and Tyler hadn’t thought of brown eyes as being pretty until recently. His face was expressive, painting the worry and the fear and the hope in the lines beside his eyes and the way his lower lip was sucked into his mouth.

“We’re gonna try our fricking best.” He couldn’t promise anything more. Josh knew that, too.

“I kinda wish I could hug you right now, bro.” Tyler had felt that way many times before.

“Me too.”

***

Researching was exhausting. The words blurred and slipped past his eyes after only minutes. Each sentence had to be read at least twice before Tyler took in a single word. It was either excitement to find a solution, or fear that there _wasn't_ a solution. All of their sources- even Pete’s old, witchy friends who were in their sixties and had been doing this for twice as long as Tyler had lived- said that if it was possible, the spells were questionable and hard to find. So far, they had been able to narrow it down to two spells which might be able to bring him back, and neither were safe. A third spell had been found, but it was dark magic, and involved blood.

It surely said something about how desperate Tyler was that he hadn’t ignored that one, but had rather put it to the side in case the first two didn’t work. Tyler wanted to wish he had never became a witch, but he couldn’t even do that. In the months they had been friends, he had become too important for Tyler to regret meeting him, even if it might have been easier that way.

Pete told him that he could only find information about two previous instances of this happening. Once in the 1890s, according to some old book, and another time, twenty years ago, by a friend of a friend who had died ten years ago. Tyler couldn’t claim that hearing about that filled him with confidence. It was shaky, all of it, but Tyler had expected no less.

Josh apologised to him when Tyler had been struggling through various old books for the past four hours.

“Hey, I never thought it’d be easy. I signed up for this, Joshie.” The nickname was an attempt to lighten the mood, to remind Josh how much he loved him, and Josh gave him a soft smile, though his shoulders still sagged with guilt. He didn’t stop bringing Tyler food and drinks, telling him that they had found a couple spells already, he could stop searching, but Tyler didn’t want to stop. Anything that might help Josh was important.

He only stopped when he had looked through all the books, front to back, and Josh was sat in a chair ignoring the TV, tracing the pads of his fingers across the tattoo on his arm. “Wanna put on a movie?” Tyler asked. He doubted either of them would pay attention to it, but they choose one anyway, and sat too close as it played.

Josh’s head was tilted so that, if they were able to touch each other, it would rest on Tyler’s shoulder.

***

Pete called at eight in the morning, waking Tyler up. His back and neck ached, cracking in complaint when he moved to pick up the phone. “Yeah?” he asked. Most of the time, he would have started with a ‘hello’, but his memory wasn’t the best when he had been awake for less than a minute.

“We’ve found a spell we think might work. It’s not definite, but it’s more promising than the rest. But- Tyler,” Pete sighed, well aware that as soon as he said he had found a spell, Tyler had been set on using it. “It could end up with you dying or getting caught there like Josh did.”

“I don’t care.” The air began to feel fresh, sharp, and he knew Josh had just apparated somewhere in the room. “When are we doing it?”

There was a long wait, and he could hear Pete saying something to Patrick, but not the words that were said. “I mean- if you’re ready now, man, we have everything to do it with.”

“At the shop?”

“Yeah.”

“See you soon.” He hung up without waiting for a response.

***

They were all in the office, and it smelt like burnt sage from a smudge stick. They couldn’t perform a ritual in the front of the shop, not wanting onlookers, so they were forced into the room that could hardly fit four people, never mind six. Patrick, Jenna, and Debby agreed to wait in the front of the shop. Tyler couldn’t hear anything from them, and he couldn’t tell if they were saying nothing or if they were whispering.

Pete excused himself to grab the spell book, and Tyler knew he meant he was giving them a moment.

“You don’t have to do this, Ty,” Josh reminded him. “Pete told me this could kill you.”

Tyler shrugged. “I’m doing this because I want to. I know the risks of being a witch. It’s worth it.” It was. It was worth it, and he would do this for his other friends, too, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t afraid.

“I-” Josh hesitated, a protest dying away. “Thank you, Ty. I love you.”

“I love you too, man.”

He slipped his phone from his pocket, and sent a text to his family, saying he loved them. Josh didn’t ask him what he was doing, but he was sure he knew. It was what people did when they might die.

Pete came back, claiming the book had taken a couple minutes to find. Tyler knew it had been sat on the table in the middle of the room.

“So, this spell pretty much makes a rift between the realms which you can travel between and come into the realm of the living, but you need a witch to perform a spell on you whilst you’re in there,” Pete said, glancing at Tyler. “It’s kinda like a protection spell, it doesn’t have any ingredients and it’s only a couple lines. It’ll let you bring Josh back with you, since you have a permanent tether to the realm of the living. And, uh, this should keep you pretty safe.” He handed Tyler a necklace with a carved silver disc sliding around the chain, alongside a piece of paper with the spell Tyler had to learn. It was easy enough, and he trusted his memory, but slipped the paper into his pocket anyway.

The idea of going into the realm of the dead made Tyler feel sick, but he put on the necklace anyway. If Tyler got stuck in there, who knows if he could get out? Josh had been able to visit the realm of the living, but there was no saying Tyler could do the same.

He refused to let himself dwell on that. It was worth it.

“Ready?” Pete asked, and Tyler gave a firm nod. To his side, he saw Josh doing the same, only after Tyler agreed. He looked over to Josh, finding his expression etched with, _you don’t have to_. Tyler wasn’t sure how well he could write words on his face, but he tried to show him, _I want to_.

He took the tiny, pained tugged at the corner of Josh’s lips as acknowledgement. Josh’s hand reached for his and passed straight through.

“You have to go to the realm of the dead now, Josh,” Pete said. He was quieter than usual.

Josh kept his eyes on Tyler. “I’ll be with you in a minute,” Tyler said.

“I’ll be waiting for you.” He flicked away.

Pete waited a second before starting to read out the spell. If Tyler looked at him, he would probably see him doing something else as well, mixing ingredients maybe. Tyler hadn’t bothered to read through the spell, and he didn’t want to move his gaze from the chair it was fixed upon.

His neck tingled, then shot with needle pains. The necklace felt heavy, either too hot or too cold, but he shouldn’t take it off. Hands ghosted over his neck, pushing into his throat and grabbing at his hands. Flinching away from them only deterred them for a second. His eyes stung as he closed them too tight.

Pete was slowing down. The smile and thumbs up Tyler gave was in no way convincing, but Pete’s voice continued, louder and quicker, and Tyler’s bones might be breaking, or he might be swallowing fire, and he couldn’t breathe, and nails scraped over his skin.

Pete stopped speaking, and Tyler could only hear dull, muted sounds, like he was submerged in water. He wasn’t sure if his eyes were opened or closed. Tyler blinked, deciding they were open. It was too dark. He couldn’t see anything, and the pain wasn’t so bad but hands trailed across his arms. He didn’t want to move or speak or make noise at all. They would know he was there. Whatever was touching him would know.

He stood for at least a minute or two, holding back tears, before he could see. Everywhere around him was foggy darkness, but he could make out broken faces, arms, sharp shapes that might be shoulders or knees or nothing at all human. The fog was broken by patches of blinding bone-white, skeletal hands or cold bodies fighting against him, trying to engulf him.

This, right here, was the desperate dead. People flickered in and out of the realm of the dead, and Tyler had never before thought about what happened to those who had no connection to the realm of the living.

He took a step. Josh, Josh was why he was here. “Josh,” he whispered. He could feel his face moving, but he couldn’t even hear himself. _“Josh!”_ The dead swallowed his screams.

He pushed through the bodies, calling for Josh, for as long as he could imagine. Hours, at least. There was no sun or clocks or anything to give him a concept of time. If he wasn’t so afraid of everyone and everything around him, he might have taken a break, sat down or napped.

He kept walking, learning to stop flinching when the ghosts grabbed at his neck and hands, the skin there already sensitive from when he had been choked and scratched. He found Josh, eventually. He wasn’t as dark or as bright as everything around him, didn’t look so broken. Josh saw him, shoved his way towards him.

They clung to each other. Tyler could feel him, could feel his soft, warm skin, the firm muscle and faint impressions of hard bone.

The spell. Tyler whispered the words into Josh’s ear, still unable to hear anything but the deep, throbbing sound that never stopped. It felt wrong that the first time he should touch this person who was so much like sunshine, they should both be so afraid.

Tyler’s hearing sharpened, and through his eyelids, he could see light that didn’t burn at his pupils. They were back, back in the shop that Tyler had spent hours and weeks in, and Tyler was shaking and once again trying not to cry. He could feel Josh shaking against him, but he just buried his face into Josh’s shoulder.

Behind him, he could hear Pete. He was saying something, and their other friends were there too, but he didn’t care, Tyler didn’t _care_ , he was just happy to be alive and still so terrified and so angry that Josh had spent so long in that terrible place and. He was feeling too much, too many emotions, all too strong.

He was alive. Josh was alive. He could hear Josh’s heartbeat where he had pressed his ear against Josh’s neck.

They pulled apart, and Josh stumbled, and he grinned.

“I’m not used to not being able to fl-” The laughter died on Josh’s lips as he looked up at Tyler. “Ty, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he dismissed. It was true, for the most part. His bones ached and his throat hurt where fingers had pressed in. His hands felt like he might have punched a wall, and his wrists weren’t the best, either. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than he had expected to feel.

“Your neck, Ty,” Josh said, brushing a hand over Tyler’s shoulder. He soaked up the physical contact, the closeness to Josh.

“Fuck, your hands, too,” Patrick added. Tyler had forgotten about his other friends.

He looked down at his hands. Along the knuckles, and all the way down the thumb, they were purple and black, the backs of his hands bearing the odd scratch. The discolouration carried on about an inch up his wrist, past the tattoos that wrapped around, and petered out, red and yellow before it returned to normal. His neck wasn’t much better, he imagined.

“I’m fine, it only hurts a little,” he repeated.

“We need to bring him to the doctors,” Josh said, but Tyler reached to hold his hand, smiling.

“I’ll be okay. It’s just bruises,” he said, and changed the subject before Josh could insist. “What’s more important right now is, _dude_ , Josh, you’re actually alive. I felt your heartbeat. I can feel you.”

At that, Josh looked down at himself, though he looked no different. Tyler had worried he would age the thirty-six years he had missed, but he looked as young as ever. “I’m alive.”

Tyler nodded. Josh was alive, they were okay, his bruises would fade.

***

_epilogue- a year later:_

Tyler got home from work to see Josh out on the balcony again. They couldn’t find anywhere with a garden, not within their budget, but the balcony had space for plant pots, and let them get plenty of sunshine and water. For the first week they had owned the apartment, he had hardly stopped talking about it.

Tyler had found it endearing, even if he couldn’t understand how Josh could spend his time at work surrounded by flowers in Pushing Daisies, and then come back home to their apartment, which had about as many plants as the shop did. Josh had very little restraint, and Tyler was bad at saying no to Josh.

He walked up behind Josh, kissing his pale, sun-warmed neck. Tyler’s own neck was its normal colour, as were his hands. They had taken a month to heal, garnering him too many confused and sympathetic looks on the street as they turned black, purple, green, yellow. The way his skin had become pale didn’t help, either, but now he was tan.

Sometimes, they came back, bringing with them nightmares. The first time he had woken up to see himself, just as beaten up as the day he had brought Josh back, they had all thought he was going to die. They searched up spells for hours, Josh had cried, Tyler had almost punched a wall (Josh did not deserve to see Tyler die, not when he would blame it on himself). They found no remedy, but they faded without the help of spells.

From then on, they became used to it. It ranged from a faded yellow that went away in days, or red like he had been slapped which only took hours. Black was when it was worst, when Tyler sunk away into himself, when he closed his eyes and could hear that repetitive, pulsating bassline that he had heard in the realm of the dead. He hated the dark. He hated being alone. He hated when it felt like he was back there, unable to find Josh, everyone touching him, and he wouldn’t stop aching.

Josh was tense when they came back, even after the tenth time, when it was a common occurrence.

“They don’t hurt, I’m okay Josh,” he would reassure him, or, “We’re alive, I’m okay, we’re gonna be okay.” Josh woke him up when he had his nightmares, and they were okay, most of the time. There were days or weeks when they weren’t okay, and plenty of times when they were _good_ , when they were happy.

Josh may not be able to go back to his own family (they couldn’t break down thirty years of recovery, of accepting he was dead, because that might just break them) and the bruises may not stop reappearing, but it was all part of it. The Josephs were Josh’s family, as long as he wanted them, and they had Pete and Patrick and Debby and Jenna, too.

Josh was alive, and they were happy.

**Author's Note:**

> explanations 4 shit i couldnt shoe horn into the fic:  
> \- the realm of the dead is v scary 4 tyler bc he is living, not dead, and they can sense that so everyone (esp the desperate dead) flock towards him and the big rift leading to the realm of the living, but they cant pass thru bc of the smudge stick/as part of petes spell. it also changes in different parts of the realm of the dead; some parts r like the realm of the living, others like nothing else the living see  
> \- ashley (halsey) was stuck bc she used black magic on herself, and i cant remember if i said that in the fic or not despite writing and then re-reading the entire thing like 8 hours ago
> 
> but yes tysm if u bothered to read this all!!! ur a real (storm)trooper!!! im a star wars loving nerd bye!!! poe/finn is my life!! ty!!


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